


The Mystery of Supply Closet Delta

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very silly crackfic written a while back to cheer up a dear friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery of Supply Closet Delta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aniay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniay/gifts).



Rumour had it that delta supply closet in medbay was cursed. 

Security cameras refused to work around it. Mechs with mischief on their minds tended to blank out around the time they opened the door, and come to joors later in their own bunks feeling thoroughly rested and very confused. Prowl refused to investigate - although he never gave a reason, just the kind of stern glare that had even seasoned warriors scampering from his office like spooked petrobunnies. Optimus just laughed it off, although - it was said, in hushed whispers and when the officers weren't around to hear - no-one had ever seen him go in there.

Only the medics had no fear of delta supply closet. At least, they claimed to have no fear. 

As such, First Aid was more than a little nervous when first Hoist and then Ratchet vanished into that very same closet a good two breems apart from each other and _didn't come out_. 

He waited. And waited. As the senior medic on duty, he was in charge, and hence he wasn't about to desert his post, but surely they should have come out of there by now? What were they doing, taking inventory?

Actually, inventory explained it. For the next few joors, at least. 

Until Swoop wandered into medbay, waved cheerfully at First Aid, and vanished into supply closet delta. 

First Aid tried to peer through the door as Swoop went in, but he had precisely 0% sneakiness in his programming and wasn't close enough or quick enough to see anything. 

He did, however, hear a long, drawn-out groan. 

"Swoop!" But he was too late. Cursed supply closet delta had swallowed its third medic of the day. 

First Aid decided to investigate. 

Sensibly, that is, and taking care to heed all relevant procedures. 

He drafted in Smokescreen - being as close to medical personnel as anyone on base not already in the closet - to staff medbay, notified Hot Spot that he was about to investigate a mystery and not to expect him back at HQ for refuelling that evening, double checked that Smokescreen had his correct comm frequency in case of an emergency, and cautiously approached the door.

Silence. No moaning, no groaning, no 'Me Swoop need help!'. No nothing. 

He tried the door. It swung open at his touch, revealing a neatly stocked supply cupboard with an inventory on the inside of the door and a complete and utter absence of Cybertronian life.

First Aid paused, confused. He'd seen them go in, he hadn't seem them come out, ergo they must still be in there. 

He stepped inside, visions of Wheeljack's experiments flitting through his mind, of delayed-action shrink rays and accidental invisibility cloaks. 

The door swung shut behind him. 

His yelp of surprise caught in his throat, as the floor moved and the walls shifted, and a blinding white light shone straight in his visor making his head ring and his sensors black. 

"Aid?" It sounded like Ratchet. First Aid rebooted his visual array, trying his best not to fall over. 

"You First Aid all right?" Swoop commented. "You made booby trap go off."

"Booby... trap?" First Aid performed the mechanical equivalent of blinking rapidly to encourage everything to come into focus. "What's going on?"

"A surprise!" Hoist called from what sounded like the other side of a fair-sized room. "Only you're about a quartex too early. Ratchet, should we really be letting him in yet? He's so young."

"Me Swoop young," Swoop said. "Me Swoop here."

"You, Swoop, are impossible to keep out of closets," Hoist said with evident amusement.

Finally, First Aid's head stopped spinning and the room came into focus. or at least Swoop's concerned face came into focus. 

"Him First Aid fine now!" Swoop announced, and bounded off to collapse face first over a very comfortable-looking bunk. 

Or at least, what looked like a very comfortable looking bunk until First Aid noticed the... straps. And gadgets, and, um... He wasn't sure what the plastic things were, but he knew that Prowl had confiscated one from Sideswipe after Sunstreaker had spent an embarrassing afternoon in med-bay last orn. 

Well, technically he'd confiscated it from Ratchet after its removal from Sunstreaker, but still. 

If he was able, he would have blushed. "Oh! I, um... You aren't in trouble." 

Hoist lay on a bunk by the far wall, a tiny cube of energon balanced on his chest. Ratchet sat at his feet, a polishing cloth in his hand. 

"Looks like he's got it," Ratchet said, a trace of a smirk on his face. 

"Indeed, old chap," Hoist replied. He smiled at First Aid. "Welcome to medical R&R."


End file.
